Two Galaxy's Saga : Let The Galaxy Burn! Edition
by EpicParagonofManliness
Summary: This is an utter slaughterfest. More specifically, this what would've actually happened in Darth Malleus's (admittedly good) Two Galaxy's Saga, if he had actually read up on his 40k lore. My fellow 40k fans? If you were left frothing mad after reading his lore-defiling story, come and read a real 40k fic! Yuuzhan Vong? Sith? Ssi'ruuk? Pshaw! Star Wars, please, meet the Chaos Gods.
1. Hand of Retribution

Well, well, well, well! Dear esteemed reader! Before we start our epic journey across the blood-drenched battlefields of the far future, I believe I have a few questions to ask:

Do you have an interest in either Warhammer 40,000 or Star Wars?

Due you enjoy reading epic scenes of ultra-unrealistic violence and gore?

Have you been enraged these past years at the fringeness of the Warhammer 40k franchise?

Have you had a primeval desire, after reading Darth Malleus's lore-defiling Two Galaxy's Saga, to see the shit completely beaten out of that pansy, dickless universe known as Star Wars?

Congratulations! Then, this story is for you!

For far too long, I have lurked the halls of the Internet, and facepalmed myself at the mutilation of my beloved franchise. For far too long, I have seen idiots and noobs paw their greedy, filthy hands at the hallowed grimderpness that is 40k. So, one day, I decided: By the Emperor, why should I, the Epic Paragon of Manliness, stay _my_ hands when heretics and xenophiles utterly butcher Warhammer 40,000? Why, indeed?

No, this is not an attack on Darth Malleus, nor am I a Khornate daemon summoned from the blackest pits of the warp. In fact, to the risk of attracting the daemons of foul Slaanesh, I quite enjoyed that story, and aside from some of the more ludicrous parts of the plot and a few grammar errors, I found it quite….acceptable.

Except, of course, where Darth Malleus completely and utterly butchered 40k fluff.

No, Darth Malleus, if you are out there reading, this is not an attack on your person. I respect you as an author, and I feel for you as I saw more rabid bulldogs of our fanbase unleash their howls of rage at your direction. It is a shitstorm even I, being the paragon of manliness that I am, am afraid to brave. BUT!

You have utterly, completely, and almost irrevocably defiled the elements of a universe I truly loved. You have no idea of the painful weeks and months I have spent, weeping tears of blood at this horrid mutilation and castration of what was to be single most badass universe out there. While I respect the fact that you are an excellent established author, having an impressive 900,000 word count to your credit, this horrendous evil you have wrought is simply unforgivable. Prepare to experience my pain.

Prepare to watch Warhammer 40,000 completely dominate Star Wars. Prepare to watch what is the proper presentation of events! Prepare for the utter buttrape of proportions never seen before!

This is Darth Malleus's Two Galaxy's Saga, as reinterpreted by the Epic Paragon of Manliness. BEHOLD!

WARNING:

Hardcore Star Wars lovers need not continue. If, however, you ignore this warning…well, let's just say, I'm all fired up and pumped for a debate shitstorm—I think I've got my flame-retardant suit right here….

Oh yes, and, the picture is CaptVovan's, titled _Your Emperor Is False_, from deviantart. I take no credit for anything.

…

This is a presentation of events as they truly should be: where Star Wars is shown its place, where 40k is presented as badass as it actually is, and where everyone in the grim derpness of the far future dies a horrible, horrible death.

The story begins at the same time as Chapter 1, except on the 40k side. I am not, by any means, an extreme expert on Star Wars (though I do believe I know enough), so I will leave the canon of Two Galaxy's Saga intact for the events of _Collision Course_. By Chapter 2, however, when 40k starts to really come in, it becomes clear that Darth Malleus clearly has no idea of even the most basic tenets of 40k; for one, no decent Battleship Captain would have a name as mundane as "Rooseland", nor a ship name as pathetic as Daemon Slayer. The number of battleships, logistics, etc, will all be the same, except the names/personalities/badassitude changed to reflect actual 40k canon. Thus, the _Let The Galaxy Burn!_ Edition shall start here.

Just in case you haven't read the story, here it is:

s/3238754/1/Two-Galaxy-s-Saga

_Collision Course,_ or, in the Galaxy Burns edition, _Hand of Retribution_

The skies above Magos IV burned. Space roiled and twisted, and plasma storms erupted upon the planet as the intense energies unleashed between the dueling armadas twisted the magnetosphere of the world.

To the fearful citizenry watching below, the warships were so large that even individual details could at certain times, be discerned by the naked eye. Some of the warships looked to be gigantic cathedrals, bedecked with snarling saints and winged eagles, screaming their hatred into the void, while their enemies were bloodied beasts, with features so vile that those who saw them were left almost paralyzed with fear. To them, it must have seemed to be a clash between the Gods; chariots of divine wrath soared through the heavens, bringing their weapons to bear against their enemies, vast, snarling daemons summoned from the depths of hell. Little did they know how close they were to the truth.

For far above, the battleships of the Imperium of Man were battling their nemesis, the fell forces of the Ruinous Powers, men and women who had sold their souls for power to daemons better left unnamed.

"Void shields one and two down!"

"Hall sections one through thirty-four struck! Hull integrity at eighty-seven percent!

"Incoming wave of fighters, prow-port side! All gunners, _ready_!"

Lord Admiral Ezekyle Tiberius Havelock paid the screams and announcements over the vox-coms no heed. Whereas his subordinates were only men, and still needed their flesh-senses to know what was going on within _Retribution_-class Battleship _Imperator Invictus_, Ezekyle had no such needs. A fusion of machinery and man, Ezekyle had been permanently hardwired directly into the ship itself, allowing him to coordinate and control the eight-kilometer battleship with nothing but his mind. When he raged, the guns spat death, and when the ship was struck, he felt the Machine-Spirit's agony. He had no need of such reports, read coldly from a terminal; the Machine-Spirit whispered to him directly, and at times, they even became one.

+Lord!+

Ezekyle raised a mental eyebrow. One of his sons had sent him a sympathetic neural message?

For even for a man as augmented as Ezekyle, handling the entire ship was too much. The venerable Machine-Spirit of the battleship necessitated; no, demanded to be attended by not just one soul but an entire _retinue_ of souls. He almost smirked at his title of Lord. Most people believed him to be the supreme power on the ship—that was blatantly untrue. It was the battleship herself, _Imperator Invictus_, that was the master. He and all his sons were wired together, directly into the ship. As Lord Admiral, Ezekyle controlled all the main functions: engine output, Nova Cannon usage, shield activation, but his sons controlled the rest of the ship; communications, scanning, even bulkhead activation. Jereus, master of communication and navigation, had just pinged him.

+This is Jereus. The High Augarator has just divined a psychic anomaly brewing in coordinates x-8,790, y-3,306, z-6,039 and c-0,935. Permission to divert 0.01 percent of engine power to scan that region of space in an hour?+

_Ah, psykers_, Ezekyle thought to himself absentmindedly, even as his autonomic system automatically engaged and destroyed an entire wing of Swiftdeath Interceptors. Most in the Imperium saw them and their ilk as a terror, an abomination to be destroyed, but Ezekyle knew that merely to be the product of a healthily narrow mind. For Lords as he, things were not so black and white. Truth to be told, if an Inquisitor had been onboard, he would most likely have been executed for allowing the battle-psykers he employed to be so actively drawing upon the powers of the Empyrean during an encounter with the fell forces of Chaos, but he was confident the…measures he had employed were sufficient. After all, an entire division of Armsmen were kept right next to the Psykana Tower, ready to blow it to smithereens should anything untoward happen.

For Ezekyle though, he felt their abilities far outweighed the risks, for psykers were touched by the Warp, an eldritch realm that knew not the constraints of time. While the majority of them could only see visions of things just before they occurred, the most skilled of them could obtain targeting solutions of ships before they even entered realspace…and the High Augarator was not merely "skilled". There had been many a time when an Ork Kill Kroozer or Kroot Warsphere had Warped into a system, packed with the greatest of stealth technology, only to be blown to pieces mere seconds after they had reached their prize, because the Augarator-psykers that Ezekyle kept had divined their appearance hours, or sometimes even days, in advance.

An explosion of ringing pain snapped him out of his reverie, as another Lance strike scored a direct hit upon the prow. Ezekyle immediately refocused on the task at hand.

+Permission granted. Ave Imperator Omnissiah! Deus Vult!+

Ezekyle took direct control of the main intercom systems. For the first time in hours, the halls upon the ship fell silent, as the babbling of orders and ringing of klaxons ceased abruptly. Across the _Imperator Invictus_, every ear turned to hear her Lord speak. Ezekyle closed what was left of his eyes, letting his anger and hatred at the enemy grow. His voice rang out deep and commanding across the entire battleship.

"_For the Emperor! For Mankind! For Terra! Do your duty!"_

The engines activated. _Imperator Invictus_'s Machine-Spirit snarled, as a wave of aggression spread through her. She broke from the line of cruisers and frigates, and charged at the closest Chaos warship.

Ezekyle opened his eyes, brimming with tears of rage.

"_**Target and deny! By our deaths, shall they know of us!"**_

Glorious battle recommenced.

…

Across the void of space, the golden yellow of lance strikes, violet-blue of plasma rounds, white of atomic explosions and the almost invisible silhouettes of thousands upon thousands of dulled, blackened interceptors duelling rendered the silent warzone almost alive, as chaotic as any battlefield upon the ground. The battle was still fresh, but a day old, yet for any seasoned veteran, it was clear an important milestone had been reached: the most powerful warship of the Imperial armada, a _Retribution_-class battleship by the name of _Imperator Invictus_, had two of its five void shields overloaded. The Chaos warships, sensing weakness, began to advance, risking a higher percentage of missile hits to concentrate fire upon the _Invictus_'s (relatively) vulnerable prow. Most commanders would have retreated, better to survive, to drag on the battle for a bit longer, in order for any small chance at victory.

Lord Admiral Ezekyle Tiberius Havelock was not most commanders. He looked upon the enemy, not with his weak, almost atrophied eyes, but with the thousand of scanners and pict-recorders attached to his warship, and felt not fear, but impatient zeal. Every second a battle dragged on was a waste in his opinion; the quicker the battle, the more battles one could have; the more battles one had, the more heretics and idolators one could slay. It was a simple equation in his mind.

"Armsmen! Prow! Ready to repel! Engines! Overload! Two-hundred percent thrust!"

His vox-orders exploded at a furious pace, almost staggering in their speed. Battle in space was not like the ground: whereas on the ground, mistakes could be made, losses afforded, in the cold vacuum, every single error could be the last. To be Lord Admiral demanded an incredible mind; ability to micromanage, be aware of the going-ons within his own ship, and ability to macromanage, to communicate with the rest of the fleet. He mentally switched channels, and encoded it with his own unique house battle-cant. It was lucky that all those he fought alongside today were old friends—otherwise, he may have had to resort to Astropathic communication.

[Castus! Azathal! Karial! Follow me with your Grand Cruisers to glory! Ulladon! Derivar! Pastroclus! Quorloral! Flank the enemy with your cruisers! Cut off their means of escape! Scintia! Yslavor! Dragovich! Ozerval! Tretovas! Encircle them with your frigates from above and below! Show no mercy! Basquor, ready! Load your nova cannon! Explosion ordnance! Ready it, by all means, to fire! All hands! This is the decisive blow! We break them _now_!]

He immediately received hails and confirmations, as each executed their orders. Still, there was doubt; this was _not_ standard naval protocol.

[Lord Admiral,] Castus hailed, [I question this course of action. The battle is young; we need not take such risks. What are you planning to accomplish?]

[Pax, Castus. I merely tire of this battle; the miserable piece of dirt below would not even be noticed for another century, even if it were lost. Still, it is our duty to protect the domains of man; this we cannot do if we dally here! Now, waste no more time; concentrate on the battle to come!]

The exchange took less than 0.1 seconds. Still, it was enough for the enemy to take advantage of. Ezekyle's head whirled as the familiar feeling of warpcraft swirled around him. Blood leaked from his vacant eyes. He snarled; he knew this feeling. This was inevitable; with his void shields down, his enemy could take advantage of the ship's dimensional instability. The Lord of the _Invictus_ gave a furious roar:

"Armsmen! Ready! _Enemy teleportation incoming!_"

…

"Armsmen! Ready! _Enemy teleportation incoming!_"

Dariel Mithras almost shook with the force behind the captain's roar, resounding across the entire hull. A part of the _Invictus_ defense personnel, Dariel had been conscripted from the lower class laborers that toiled in the belly of the ship. Chosen for his size and strength, Dariel was nevertheless eager to fight for the glory of the Lord Admiral; yet, to his horror, due to an obscure decree laid down centuries ago, he was forbidden training and had simply been handed a shotgun and taught how to use it. He hadn't even been spared his duties; if anything, he worked harder than ever before. His life had taken a downward turn since then; everything he knew had fallen apart. When he had tried to speak to his parents, his girlfriend, a provost had detained him, and told him in no uncertain terms that should he try to make contact with his old friends and family, then he, and all the people he knew, would be taken away and shot. Everything he had learned about defense service was a lie; there were no better postings, better meals, no better life. His whole life was destined to be offered up upon the altar of battle to an indifferent god; he was ultimately, expendable. Dariel was terrified, demoralized, and filled almost with a bitter hatred towards the ship he had once loved.

Yet, he kept on his bravest and most determined face. The massive, whirling chainsword behind him was doing its job, alright. The sound of contemptful chuckling echoed.

"The enemy approaches, at this hour of death. Deny him! Spite him! Spit upon him! Faith and fire! Fury and wrath! Offer to the Emperor your lives, for _salvation demands sacrifice!_"

Dariel and those closest to him looked nervously at the preacher standing behind them. Dressed in armored robes, he wielded in his right hand a giant eviscerator, holding in his left a battered hotshot laspistol, whittled into the shape of a crude Aquila. Over eight feet tall, the bald, massive priest towered over every single one of them. His expression was filled with contempt, every single muscle tensed to kill. His eyes bored into Dariel and the others, almost daring them to run. The priest's lips curled into a sadistic sneer, and he hefted the eviscerator up with one hand, as if it was a toy.

"For He who gives, will also take. For if it is not Chaotic blood that this weapon tastes today, then it shall be those that have denied Him through cowardice," he finished.

Dariel was not the smartest of men, but even he understood the message. Quickly, he turned around to avoid staring at those burning eyes, hunkering down behind their makeshift barricade of crates. He adjusted his grip on his shotgun, making sure it was loaded, even as the dark, mocking laughter continued. A few seconds passed, until Dariel realized something. He turned to the armsmen beside him.

"Wait, if the priest's not laughing, who is?"

Then the hallways exploded in blood.

…

There was no _time_. There was no _way_. Lord Admiral Ezekyle was a part of the ship. He could feel the Machine-Spirit of the _Imperator Invictus_ crying out with revulsion at her defilement, by the filthy tread of the mongrel mutant footsoldiers of the forces of Chaos. But he simply could not devote even a fraction of his processing power to solving the problem himself, but instead, trust in those who had control. Even now, he could sense his other son, Careus, master of the decks, splitting up and isolating the soldiers, locking them down there, activating turrets here, and, in some extreme cases, even venting them all out into the void. Armsmen could always be replaced, after all.

So despite all his disgust, despite all his loathing, he turned his mind to the task at hand: the total, utter and complete annihilation of the opposing fleet. In this way, and in this way only, his enemies mirrored his purity of purpose; it was for this one thing, this semi-divine hatred for all their foes that Ezekyle almost felt respect for these fallen sons of Man. Even in damnation, they were still purer than the alien, beings that could never comprehend His Glory, in the power of their hate and their willingness to give all, for the glory of their gods.

And give all, they would—this Ezekyle vowed.

He sighted down the lead warship of the Chaotic forces, his nemesis—a Despoiler-class Battleship. Ezekyle was slightly surprised. The Despoiler-class had been first created back, almost at the time of the Dawn of the Imperium, just a few, short centuries after the bitter civil strife of the Horus Heresy. His lower lip curled. The builders and priests back then did not understand the purity of mankind's technology, and in their misplaced pride, rejected the teachings of the Emperor and his alter-ego, the Deus Mechanicus, and succumbed to the hubris of innovation. The Emperor, in his wrath, had called down a warp-storm upon them, and consigned the entire facility into oblivion. To his knowledge, only three models had survived. One was destroyed in glorious battle, redeeming its tainted bloodline with martyrdom; the other two succumbed and were overtaken by the forces of the Archenemy, proving for once and for all that it was a model unworthy of Imperial manufacture. A true spirit of the Deus ex Machina would rather overload its own engines and take the enemy with them then succumb to eternal damnation.

He didn't even bother to process its unique ident-sig; it was beneath him to know the name of such a weakling spirit. All he needed to know was that it was an enemy, and thus, it had to _die_.

[Basquor! Fire the Nova Cannon! Grand Cruisers! _Prepare to launch broadsides_!]

Unique among all the ships that Ezekyle had encountered during his long years of service, only humanity, and its…offshoots (for he hesitated to call traitors and heretics 'human') utilized broadsides in space warfare. The pernicious Eldar, for example, both light and dark (though equally evil in measure) preferred swift, striking ships, too cowardly to face their enemies in direct combat. The crude Orks were too stupid to build their own models; instead, they sailed in hollowed out asteroids or space hulks, only occasionally having the stroke of genius to copy mankind's holy vehicles in war. The Tyranids, one of the few alien races whom the Admiral felt any degree of…emotion in battle with, where monstrous, blasphemous conglomerations of flesh and viscera and deserved only to annihilated utterly. And other aliens, too many to count…all of them weak, all of them fools.

Imperial battleships were long, beautiful, boxy constructs, emphasizing the might and glory of the Imperium they served and the power of the God they worshipped. Upon the prow were mounted the lance cannons and other such extreme distance weaponry; facing the foe, the ship could watch gleefully as the enemies of man died screaming and gutted before them, before they had even managed to come into range for their first shot. Yet, it was up close and right beside the enemy, however, that the most damage was done. Mounted upon the side of each battleship where thousand upon thousands upon thousands of rows of missile bays, plasma batteries, lascannons and more. With one broadside, an Imperial ship could often launch millions of attacks in one overpowering blow, utterly obliterating the enemy. Most alien ships could only take one such broadside. Human ships, however, and by extension, those who copied them, could usually take more, but even then, it was a near thing. Thus, not even the power of _Imperator Invictus_ and her smaller sisters, who were facing Chaos heretics utilizing unholy or outdated models of Imperial design, could take out a large portion of the enemy fleet in one go.

This was where the Nova Cannon entered the equation. The Nova Cannon was the most extreme distance of weapons, able to at the most extreme of ranges, strike entire Astronomical Units away. Essentially an incredibly massive torpedo, fired almost at the speed of light and containing the most potent warheads known to Man, the most powerful Nova Cannon strikes could obliterate small moons. Such massive power came at a price, however; one was when such a weapon was mounted, a huge amount of space was needed, space which otherwise could be used for other things, such as storing attack craft or even installing additional shield generators. The other was the sheer amount of energy required to fuel the thing. The projectile was so massive, and fired at such a high speed, that the act of firing it actually pushed entire kilometer-long battleships backwards, so great was the recoil. When it was used, power, vital power, power that went to shields, engines, weapons; all had to be diverted to feed the Nova Cannon's insatiable need for energy. For Basquor however, Lord of the Mars-class Cruiser _Ares Titanicus_, all this was worth the sheer killing power that the Nova Cannon allowed.

There was a flash of incredible light. Ezekyle, ready, had already dimmed all windows and scanners, but even then, the sheer amount of energy pouring from the Nova Cannon strike forced its way through and blinded him for almost a full second.

Electronic broadcasts were scrambled. Astropathic communication, however, was not.

+Strike! For the Emperor!+

Ezekyle, with three Grand Cruisers behind, charged into the midst of the stunned Chaos fleet, firing their broadsides, taking advantage of their downed void shields. The battle was still far from over, but a far more decisive milestone had been reached.

[The battle is ours! Forwards, brethren!]

Little did Ezekyle know how wrong he was.

…

Dariel hid behind a crate, clutching himself with shaking hands.

"Oh, divine Emperor, forgive me, I never meant to doubt, oh God, please…"

Life for the lower classes amongst the ship was nasty, brutish, and short. But even in the harshest of places, humanity thrived. Before his conscription, Dariel had a family. He had a shitty job, got drunk, and had more than his fair share of scars, but hey! It was life. He had a girl, and his parents had against all odds, managed to retire, and things were looking good. He kept his head down, showed up to prayer, and did his work. He lived, laughed, and knew joy.

Here though…there was nothing natural.

When the head of the armsmen next to him had exploded, showering him in cooked gore, Dariel had flinched away instinctively; it was that, that had saved his life for a second las-bolt had passed mere centimeters from his head. All around, red-armored troopers with snarling masks had appeared all around them, dripping with fresh blood and wielding lasrifles. Dariel didn't remember feeling sickened. He didn't remember feel anything at all, almost as if he was a servitor, as he raised his shotgun and returned fire. They had completely surrounded them, had them in a killing field of fire. People around him were being mowed down at an incredible rate, and only doing minimal damage in return, for their enemies' body-armor was proof against the weak shotguns the naval men had been issued. Instead, it was the priest who had saved them. For all his zeal, he was not a fool, and had called to them, singing hymns as he charged directly into combat at the enemy troopers. His armored robe was proof against their blasts and then he was among them, hacking and slashing with his massive chainsaw, like a scythe reaping corn.

"Follow me, if you want to live!"

They had followed, terrified, hearing only bestial howls behind them. Then, the bulkhead doors had shut down, cutting off their pursuers. Out of the forty men, only seven had survived.

"We must regroup," the priest had said. "Elsewhere upon the ship, the enemy infests. This cannot be allowed."

One of the armsmen stood up. Dimly, Dariel remembered his name was Michael.

"No! I'm…I'm not going back there! We were sent here to die! We barely even killed any of them, and—"

The priest loomed over him.

"Are you _deserting_?"

Michael raised his shotgun against the priest. After a moment of hesitation, another three did as well. Dariel froze, unsure of what to do. The deserting armsman, Michael, swallowed and said in a trembling voice:

"Yes, and you can't stop us."

Tension boiled. The priest looked murderous.

For a brief, terrified second, Dariel was worried that the priest would strike Michael down where he stood, and continue with the rest of them. Instead, the priest _laughed_.

"Fair enough. All your souls are damned, anyways. Go where you want. He who still wishes to serve, however, follow me."

Dariel had no idea what had happened. Dariel had no idea of what he was thinking. As yet another armsman ran up to join Michael and the rest of the deserters, Dariel and the other armsman, who he had never met before, stayed by the priest. Perhaps it had been Dariel's sense of duty, but he doubted it. He had seen the skill of the priest, and Dariel had a sinking feeling that the only way he would live, if only for a few seconds longer, was if he followed the zealous madman. The priest nodded approvingly, the first time he had shown any emotion other than zeal and contempt.

"It seems even in the most unlikely of men, the seed that is courage may take root. Come with me then, as we sell our lives dearly to the Archenemy."

He turned around and stalked away. Dariel glanced at the other, unnamed armsman, and shrugged. They followed.

…

Lord Admiral Ezekyle smiled as he closed with the Despoiler-class Chaos Warship. He had it in his sights. He would savor its death. A shadow loomed at the side of his vision.

Hm?

An Iconoclast-class destroyer barred his way, interposing itself between the two much larger battleships. Ezekyle sneered.

"You wish so much to die? I shall oblige you!"

With a mental command, he activated the _Invictus_'s lance cannons, pummeling the destroyer's vulnerable hull. Entire molten sections of the hull were blasted right off, yet its crew was filled with suicidal bravery and devotion and refused to move. Ezekyle laughed at this futile show of defiance, focusing every lance strike right in the middle of the destroyer.

[If you will not move,] Ezekyle cried, right into the external broadcasts for all to hear, [then I will smash through you!]

"All hands! Brace for impact! Engines! Three-hundred percent thrust! Divert energy from weapons! Splinter the bastard into pieces!"

Ezekyle was going to ram the destroyer, and split it in half.

An insane tactic, even by Imperial standards, ramming was only attempted in the most desperate of times. It took advantage of a battleship's incredibly armored brow, utilizing it as an impromptu battering ram. With the mass of eight-kilometers of adamantium behind it, traveling at half the speed of light, even the hull of the _Imperator Incivtus_ could be used as a weapon.

"Die, heretics! Be cast screaming from the domains of Man!"

…

The hallway lights had been flickering on and off for the past few minutes. The first time it had occurred, all of them had jumped, even the priest, weapons ready to kill everything in sight. But as the lights flickered on, and off, and on, and off…slowly, the group adjusted. The priest, no longer jumpy by now, but impatient for action, was muttering to himself under his breath. It was during this time that Dariel spoke to his fellow armsman, just for something to say.

"Hey…uh…you. So, what's your name?"

The armsman gave him a dirty look.

"Seriously? At a time—"

The lights flicked off again. Dariel waited patiently for him to finish. It was only when the light came back on and Dariel noticed the armsman no longer had a head that Dariel screamed. Like a headless puppet, the man's body twitched as insane laughter poured from the walls. Incredible jets of crimson jetted out of the severed neckstump and the armsman's severed head continued all the while to laugh, even as it rolled across the floor.

"Ahhhh! Ahhhhhhhhh!"

Dariel screamed again, louder and shriller and than he ever had in his life and blinded by fear, hurled his shotgun at it, hitting in squarely in the chest with a sickening _thunk_. A mouth tore open on the man's chest and crunched down hard on the gun, sending metal spraying in every direction. Dariel wet his pants, and fell on his back. A monster slavered and advanced.

_Crack! Crack!_

A series of lasbolts smashed the monster back, eliciting a howl of pain from it. The priest had returned.

"Stand fast, armsman! _For the Emperor!_"

The monster snarled, multicolored drool leaking from its orifices, and picked up and hurled its head at the priest. He didn't even bat an eye as he slashed it in half in the air with his whirling chainsaw.

"With hate, I repel thee! With spite, I abjure thee! With rage, I reject thee! With faith, _I deny thee_!"

The priest was upon the monster.

The clash between the two seemed to Dariel like a battle between opposing forces of nature. On one side, a priest, a holy crusader of God; on the other was a truest monster, a daemon summoned from the deepest pits of hell. Both fought with savage abandon, rage and hate, and Dariel could only watch helplessly as the two battled.

Yet, to his utter disbelief, it had seemed the priest was _winning_!

"Oh merciful Emp—"

_KACRANG!_

The entire hall shook as the ship impacted something tremendous. The force was so great that it picked Dariel, the priest, and the daemon all up and hurled them bodily down the hall through hundreds of meters of hallways, horizontally.

Dariel could only remember rushing wind, then blackness.

…

The impact was tremendous. Even in the battleship's throne room, where the Lord Admiral had invested billions of Throne's worth of g-force compensators, the vibrations that ran through the entire hall shook his bones and shattered his arteries. Ezekyle bled profusely, yet he could feel even now the nanorobots within his system repairing him. He quickly ran a systems diagnostic, ignoring his own pain. The ship was all that mattered.

The _Invictus_ had suffered damage. Despite his softening-up of the destroyer, the superstructure was still stable enough that in ramming, a full twenty-six percent of the _Imperator Invictus_'s prow mass had been sheared away. The only reason, in fact, that the _Imperator Invictus_ still had a prow at all was that the _Retribution_-class model, even for Imperial ships, had an almost ludicrously oversized prow, just for circumstances like this. Still, the way was clear and another enemy ship had been purged, for the glory of the Emperor. Her sister ships floated beside the _Invictus_, Grand Cruisers all, blasting death into the enemies' now unshielded forms. It was Imperial warfare at its greatest and most glorious.

+Lord! Anomalous readings! Massive energy fluctuations detected!+

Jereus brushed his mind against his, filled with emotions of confusion and terror. What?

[Ezekyle! It is a trap! Their void shields have been reactivated! We take their bombardment, blow for blow!] Castus's voice was strained.

Impossible! There was no way the void shields could be reactivated that fast! It was…

A dark mocking laughter echoed through the entire Imperial fleet. A voice that could have either been as deep as the rumbling of an earthquake or as light as the whisper of the wings of a thousand butterflies hailed the entire defense force.

"In the name of the True Gods, _nothing is impossible_."

…

Dariel had awoken to the sound of dripping fluid.

"Uh?"

He was on a bed of something soft, and his body ached all over. He groaned, squinted his eyes, then collapsed back on the soft surface, letting his vision adjust to the darkness. His hand touched something pulpy. Out of simple curiosity, he picked it up and looked at it.

It was a sack, with hard and squishy stuff inside.

"What…"

It was the pulverized head of the priest. Utterly deformed from the hundred-meter impact, juice leaked from its orifices and it was the consistency of egg yolk. The features, just recognizable, stared up at him vacantly. Dariel screamed again, the third time in minutes, and hurled it away as far as he could, sobbing helplessly. It exploded against a distant wall, and the sound of dripping intensified.

There was a low moan.

Dariel froze, every muscle tensed. Thirty meters away, a dim shape _of a headless man_ rose, and began to stalk closer to him. Dariel whimpered, and began to find a place to hide.

…

No.

No!

It was impossible. It couldn't be done. There was no possible way. Yet…

The vox-traffic was incredible. Screams, roars, and cries of despair echoed for all to here, overlayed by cackling madness. Ezekyle was almost physically stunned at the magnitude of the error he had committed.

His friends, brave souls all, fought grimly by his side. Despite being outnumbered and outgunned, their own tactics used against them, they fought with the famed determination that Mankind was known for. Fire exploded across the void of space as now, the enemy launched their own broadsides against the Imperial fleet, and Ezekyle could only watch the signature burst of light as void shield after void shield overloaded, leaving the ships with only their armor to withstand the attack.

Castus's Grand Cruiser was the first to fall.

A Vengeance-class Grand Cruiser, the _Ira Aquila_ had served the Imperium for almost the entire length of its history. Castus's family had been one of the very first explorators who warred to bring the Emperor's light across the galaxy, during the Great Crusade itself. Rewarded for their faith and determination during the aftermath of the Horus Heresy, the very first of the Castus line had been given the Grand Cruiser, better to deal _vengeance_ against those who had betrayed their own. The ten thousand year old ship had roll of history longer than even Ezekyle's own _Imperator Invictus_, and after taking a double broadside from two Chaos cruisers, it could take no more. Finally, after ten millennia of loyal service, the _Eagle's Wrath _could rage no more.

The wave of explosions arced through the ship. A roar of helpless, impotent fury echoed from the doomed ship seconds before—

[Avenge me!] Castus cried.

It exploded, a light so bright that it would be mistaken as a supernova dozens of light-years away.

+Lord? Lord?+

Lord Admiral Ezekyle Tiberius Havelock squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking from them from the death of his friend, fear at their defeat overtaking him, as the notion that he could die finally exploded into his mind. This could not be true, he repeated, barely even feeling the pain of multiple torpedo impacts, as he retreated from this unbearable truth.

_+Father!+_

Agony seared through his head, a mental scream echoing through him mind, tearing through the grip of desolation.

For the first time in minutes, real, true emotion surged through Ezekyle's head. The psyk-sorcery of despair lifted from Ezekyle, utterly broken, as a sound, a sound far more terrible, far worse, far greater than any magnitude of physical or psychic torture the Archenemy could lay upon him was expressed in this single, horrible scream.

Ezekyle roared in grief.

"No! _Careus!_ _**My son!**_"

The entirety of the _Imperator Invictus_ was in turmoil. The machines were going haywire as Careus's death released them from control; his brothers were tormented with the pain-patterns of his demise, writhing impotently even as the meme-viruses uploaded by the teleporting saboteurs were wreaking havoc—

"_**No."**_

A physical weight of barely controlled rage descended upon the entire ship. The entire mainframe of the ship came to a sudden halt, and all of the pained brothers felt a grief far deeper than they could imagine.

For the first time in centuries, Lord Admiral Ezekyle Tiberius Havelock had achieved perfect symbiosis with the Machine-Spirit of the _Imperator Invictus_. The Machine-Spirit was him, and he was the Machine-Spirit. They were as one, and none could stand before their combined fury and wrath.

+It was about time, Father, that you awakened from your trance.+

Careus!

Ezekyle searched around mentally, looking for any trace of his dead son.

+No, father, I am well and truly gone. But all who have interfaced with the ship, all who have had their brain-patterns uploaded, shall leave a ghost of their personality-imprint upon it forever. Today, the Archenemy faces not just Lord Admiral Ezekyle Tiberius Havelock, nor his son, Careus Firezon Eraval Havelock, but every single soul that has interfaced—every single Lord Admiral, our father's father stretching all the way back to the _Imperator Invictus_'s birth. There will be victory, for the heroes of the dead fight with us today.+

Ezekyle could feel the presence of multiple personalities around him; some familiar, some not, but all were united in purpose.

Ezekyle smiled, despite his pain.

"_**Let us spit in the eyes of the so-called True Gods**_!"

…

Dariel hid behind a crate, clutching himself with shaking hands.

"Oh, divine Emperor, forgive me, I never meant to doubt, oh God, please…"

He could hear the squelches of the daemon behind him. He could feel his soul screaming within his body at him to do something.

It was hopeless. What could he do? He was just a laborer, he hadn't even wanted to fight, there was no point.

The daemon stepped even closer.

Dariel bolted.

The daemon sprinted after him, laughing maniacally. Dariel ran, faster than he ever had, but it was gaining on him.

Twenty meters.

Dariel panted, his body burning.

Ten meters.

Oh, god, oh god, it hurt so much, it hurt—

Five meters.

Dariel rounded a corner and slipped on something, skidding across the ground. A large girder, disturbed by the pursuit, fell and blocked the monster's way. It roared, angered at being denied its prey, and began tearing at it. Dariel tried to get up and run, but his ankle was swollen, and he knew it wouldn't simply kill him, it would rape his soul and burn the very trace of his existence away.

He pawed around, desperate for anything, anything—

"Dariel?"

He froze. He knew that voice. How?

He looked around, despite the monster looming around the corner.

"Dariel?"

Despite everything, despite all the destruction, forward, just in front of him was a terminal was still active, still working. He limped over to it. It was a miracle.

It was Fiona, the girl he had left behind when he was conscripted. It was a recorded message, but—

"Why haven't you contacted me for the past six months? You promised after training time was over, you would come back for me. Have you simply forgotten?"

Dariel touched the picture, even though it was just a recording. He was speechless.

"You promised to be a real man, to protect the Lord Admiral and honor your promises. You haven't come back, I haven't heard from you, no one knows where you've gone. Is this it? Are you a liar, an oathbreaker? Can you still remember the Emperor's Pledge, which all of us were required to memorize as a child?"

Dariel whispered to himself.

"To protect, to serve, to—"

"I thought you loved me. I miss you so much. Everyone's told me to give up on you."

Dariel's heart froze. No…please…not when he was about to die—

"But I believe in you."

Dariel couldn't speak. The image froze, then broadcast again. Dariel's heart was still. Then, he felt grim, fatalistic determination. No one would ever know what transpired here, and his soul would be devoured by daemons, but the Emperor—

He looked around. Then, his jaw dropped.

Wait.

Impossible.

Almost as if fate was taunting him.

Almost as if life was mocking him.

Almost as if it was divine intervention.

Almost as if the Emperor had truly given him a second chance, to redeem himself.

For, under the glow of the viewscreen, Dariel spied the glint of the dead priest's Aquila pistol. Dariel whispered the last part of the Emperor's Pledge, it taking on a real meaning for the first time in Dariel's mind.

"…_and so he who hath faith, shall bear witness to the divine."_

…

…

[Avenge me!]

Castus's oath reverberated throughout Ezekyle's skull.

+_Father!_+

Careus's cry pierced through his heart.

Upon their blood, Ezekyle swore, he would enact his vengeance. The enemy fleet would undergo ten thousand years of suffering, for every single act of desecration they had committed.

"Forwards, men! For those who died! Let us execute their dying wish, by anointing them with the blood of our enemies!"

As a wave of religious fervor washed over Ezekyle, he felt the ghosts around him nodding their heads, the Machine-Spirit of the ship itself roaring its approval at what he was about to do.

[All hands! Disengage from the battles, save yourselves! As I began this, so shall I end this!]

He ignored his comrades' shock, at this order to _retreat_.

[Do not defy my legacy!]

With that, he rerouted all power from his shields into his engines, and pushed to their limits, and beyond, pointing his ship directly like an arrow at the Despoiler warship, aiming at the enemy's heart.

"What are you doing? Lord Ezekyle, if you continue this, the reactors will overload!"

He ignored the cries of alarm all around him. He had chosen his path, and would not be swayed.

"Today, we sell our lives to the enemy! By our deaths, shall they _know of us!_"

…

The daemon snarled, drooling bloodied ichor as it tore through the wreckage. The soul of its prey was near, and the hellspawn would not be denied its prey. Howling its delight, it bounded in, confidant that the killing of this mortal would take no more than a few seconds.

A massive slash across its chest hurled it back.

"The Emperor Protects!"

Dariel Mithras was upon the hellbeast, hacking and slashing with the priest's massive chainsaw. It was an abomination against nature, and his very soul cried out at his proximity to the monster. It gave a wordless roar, and thrashed wildly at Dariel.

Dariel crushed down his fear. Not today, he whispered. Today, he was fighting not just for himself, but for every other soul that lived upon this ship. If the monster was free—

The faces of the slain crewmembers, the dead priest, his parents, Fiona—their faces all floated before him, and Dariel knew he could not let this beast take one more step into the ship.

"I reject thee!"

The monster snarled, and knocked the chainsaw clean from his hands. Dariel gasped in pain as the edge of it caught his left arm, tearing chunks of flesh off. Involuntary tears ran down his face, and black spots danced across his vision, but _it could not end this way_.

"I abjure thee!"

Dariel body-slammed the monster, taking it down with him. Its claws raked across his face, and Dariel screamed. As he flinched, the monster caught and hurled him back, crashing him through various crates.

He looked up dazedly at the enraged horror, its gnashing maws dripping with blood. Rising to his feet unsteadily, Dariel used a crate as support. His left arm was ruined, but it was still functional.

Dariel knew he was doomed. There was no way he was going to win this. He began to laugh, almost manically, and held up his right arm, the Aquila pistol almost glowing the dark.

"Burn, fucker."

He fired, each shot blasting entire craters into the daemon—any shot would have killed a normal man twice over, but the daemon took the blows and charged.

It hurled its central mass forwards, mouth wide open, ready to devour him. Dariel attempted to dodge, but its mouth caught onto his left arm, and pulled. Dariel cried out in agony, as it bit into him and dragged him closer. The sight of the chunk of flesh that was his arm was too much, and Dariel's gorge rose, and he threw up, all over the beast and himself. By now, it had an iron grip upon Dariel's shoulder, and no matter how he twisted and turned, Dariel could not escape. Dariel sobbed, and raised the laspistol to his own head, ready to end the pain.

Then, he gritted his teeth and pointed it to his own shoulder, and fired.

The explosion tore him free, and Dariel stumbled back, his vision darkening. The redness that exploded all over his awareness threatened to shut him down, but one small corner of his mind protested and raged against his fate, and he stood upon his feet, despite everything. He panted heavily, he could barely think, and his was definitely going to die. But there was one last card he could play.

Laughing, a brutal gurgling sound, Dariel slammed his remaining hand into a control panel beside him.

"Freeze, fucker."

A machine arm jammed, then broke as it attempted to lift a barrel of coolant. It fell, right upon the beast, and shattered, releasing its contents.

Dariel didn't even feel the chill of the coolant as it engulfed him.

Dariel, duty accomplished, perished in death.

…

The _Imperator Invictus_ surged at the Despoiler ship. Almost as if mocking her, it charged back. The _Imperator Invictus's_ entire front prow buckled and folded back as both collided traveling at almost sixty percent the speed of light. The _Imperator Invictus_ buckled and almost shattered, even as Ezekyle laughed, bleeding from every orifice, feeling the Machine-Spirit's pain, a long hard laugh filled with mad mirth.

"Fire the Nova Cannon!"

This was a maneuver that had never been accomplished in all ten thousand years of Imperial history, where one fired their Nova cannon point blank into the enemy ship. So fast was the round, it shattered right through the Despoiler's head, through its body, and detonated within.

It was no normal nova munition. Ezekyle had just created a singularity, a tear in time and space.

There was a bright flash of light. It was so bright, everyone within a million kilometers had to shut their eyes or go blind. When it cleared—

Out of the blue, in the midst of the raging battle zone, ten new ships of a design Ezekyle had never seen before appeared. From each of them burst a multitude of unknown frequencies and signatures.

"_What?_"

Most were shaped like triangles, each of utilitarian grey and bristling with weaponry, though to Ezekyle's eye, almost every one of them was an incredibly unimpressive sight, compared to the sleek design of the Eldar, the blasphemity of Chaos, or the glory of Imperial vessels—all except one. While the majority of them could barely be classed as even escorts, one was gigantic, domineering, almost 19 kilometers long. Ezekyle was _almost_ impressed with this one, but even this show of might did not deter the Chaos fleet, even now disintegrating from the loss of its leader, their soldiers aggrieved and even more insane than they usually were.

An Infidel-class raider fired upon one of the smaller newcoming ships, its macrobattery arrays firing hundreds upon hundreds of ionized rounds specially made for overloading shields. For a second, Ezekyle almost thought these new ships did not have shields, until the explosions from the rounds cleared, revealing the ship to be entirely unharmed. It fired back with multiple strange lasers, but these where stopped by the Infidel's void shields. The Infidel sped by, and fired a series of boarding pods, which managed to actually reach the surface of the ship and impact—it seemed that their shield generators where not as good as the void shield technology utilized by the Imperium. Ezekyle almost felt bad for these newcomers', for they where about to face the insane minions of Chaos in close combat.

The other battleships had not been idle. While the two badly mauled surviving Grand Cruisers had limped away, licking their wounds, the Chaos Warfleet had turned around completely, focused on venting their rage against these newcomers. While the tattered Imperial fleet had wisely held back, the Chaotic forces, without the charisma and tactical acumen of their leader, had completely succumbed to a blood rage and upon being fired back upon by the newcomers, abandoned the fight with the no-longer retaliating forces of the Imperium.

Of the original eighteen Chaotic vessels, only thirteen remained, destroyed by Ezekyle's actions. These remaining vessels commenced a furious assault upon the newcomers, heedless of their obvious power.

Even as war was reignited, this was fine with Ezekyle. He was no longer paying any attention to the battle, anyways—there were far more important things to muse about, such as _where had the Nova Cannon round gone_? It was supposed to be Ezekyle's redemption for failure! The ship herself howled in humiliation, and Ezekyle felt doubt warring within. Honor dictated he reengage, yet—

Suddenly, all around the void, dozens of pinpricks of multicolored warplight exploded all across the battlefield. Multiple ships translated in realspace. A general broadcast was made to all ships within a hundred million kilometers.

[Ave Imperator! Cease and Desist! This is Inquistorial Battleforce, Epsilon-Theta-Kappa! All who are loyal to Him-On-Earth, lay down your arms and submit to the authority of the Inquisition!]

A special, secured channel had opened up for Ezekyle. Ezekyle opened it, almost numbed.

A grim faced man appeared onscreen. He sneered at the pathetic form of the bloodied Lord Admiral, unheeding of the battle raging round them. He spoke in Low Gothic, not even deigning to acknowledge Ezekyle's status.

"Lord Admiral Ezekyle Tiberius Havelock, you are charged with supreme incompetency. Not only did you manage to lose a Grand Cruiser, your reckless deeds have almost caused the destruction of an entire battlegroup. With the Power invested in me by the God-Emperor of Mankind, I strip you of your rank, and order you submit to Inquisitorial examination. May Imperial Justice account in all balance; The Emperor Protects."

…

Yup, no Star Wars appearances yet. I wanted to save up the good stuff, and I thought it would be better that I show up the awesome points of 40k first, rather than go directly to Star Wars slaughter.

This chapter is actually just a demonstration of how battles in 40k are actually fought. Most people simply don't understand the grand scale that 40k operates on. I find it actually kind of sad: so much of the franchise is focused on the ground battles, when in actuality, the space battles are just as exciting. I mean, just think for a moment at how the ships in 40k actually look: bedecked by statues of slain saints, covered in gold, bristling in weapons that can shatter continents. When such titans stride into battle, can't you just not help but feel a little excited? Space warfare in 40k is just as exciting, if not more, than battles on the ground. Sure, I can hear you saying, "but battles in space are just a couple of ships slugging it out over the course of days!" (yup, Star Wars fans, that's right, days. 40k not only has firepower that matches SW, but can take it as well, unlike Warsie battles, which take but a few hours. I'll talk about it more, later). Ultimately, space warfare in 40k is just like ground warfare in 40k—it's all a matter of attrition. Most capital ships, such as the Emperor-class Battleship mentioned above, have a multitude of Void Shields (in fact, I believe for unmodified Emperor-class battleships [a rarity] the default number is 4, give or take, depending on the captain's upgrades/modifications). Void shields are dimensional shields that block all light based weaponry and sorcery (including teleportation) but somehow allows projectiles (which is stupid, I admit) to pass through. Unlike in Star Trek or Star Wars, there are no "shield percents"; either it's up, or it's down. Attempting to whittle down a void shield is useless; if an attack isn't strong enough to overload it, for all intents or purposes, it might not have even been launched. Because of this unique property, and the fact that most ships have multiple, overlapping shields, _and_ the fact that 40k ships are so heavily armored (up to tens of meters of adamantium, a super-metal, in fact. While void shields are the main line of defense, the hull is considered an _essential_ secondary defense, because every single major battle _will_ have your void shields go down), battles usually take days, as ships slug each other with continent cracking energy, all for that small, perhaps thirty minute window when the shields go down. Then, the enemy unleashes everything (and I mean, everything) they have at the unshielded portions until the shields go up and voila! One repeats the cycle.

Fighter warfare is just as exciting in 40k, too. Like I said, everything is about attrition. Sure, I can hear Star Wars fans saying, "Hey, a Star Destroyer carries _thousands_ of TIE Fighters/Bombers/Defenders/Interceptors/whatchamac allits (or, in the New Republic era, X-Wings and their variants)! Since you've said that void shields allow physical stuff through, can't those fighters simply slip past and slaughter the shit out of a battleship?" They answer is: nope, they can't.

40k battleships also contain thousands, if not _ten of thousands_ of fighters as well; all that eight-kilometer storage room has to be used for something, after all. The mainstay fighter of the Imperium is the Fury Interceptor. _It is huge_; it's about a half of the size of a corvette, which is a capital ship (albeit a small one), by Star Wars standards. 40k considers them _fighters_. If you don't believe me, let me tell you about the specs:

The absolute smallest Furies are forty meters, while the largest can reach up to seventy meters in length, just a bit smaller than half of a corvette, which is a hundred and fifty meters. They are designed to be able to be independent from their mothership for up to weeks at a time, and support a crew of four, not including servitors (which are zombie robot servants, basically). They have entire fixed _banks_ of lascannons (a kind of laser weaponry slightly more powerful than a laser cannon from Star Wars, but weaker than a turbolaser), both forward and backward pointing, a swiveling, machine-gun like multilaser (a weaker laser than a lascannon, but having an incredible fire rate) mounted either at the tail or the nose and lots and lots of self-guiding torpedoes for anti-fighter combat (the Fury is usually used as an interceptor, rather than a bomber, though considering that it's almost half the size of a corvette, a small capital ship by SW standards, I can see them threatening [though not substantially] larger Star Wars ships). Remember, an Emperor-class battleship contains _thousands_ of these, and that's not even including the thousand more Starhawk bombers (which are used for bombing raids against enemy ships, and contain a significantly higher number of higher yield bombs), the landing transports, etc.

So, yeah, just by looking at this, it seems Wars ships are screwed against Imperium of Man ships—but that's not it!

I can hear the most diehard of Warsies say, "well, what if we start firing shitloads of torpedoes? The interceptors are out there dueling, but they can't hit the torps, right?"

WRONG!

For one, there are engagement ranges. While Star Wars engages at a paltry few thousand kilometers away, or even (at the most extreme) ten of thousands of kilometers away, 40k ships typically engage at _a hundred thousand kilometers_ away. By the time you shoot a torpedo, the battleship might have moved, or even detected and shot down them.

What? Detected and shot down?

The answer is yes; 40k ships have point defense systems. Aside from the big hitters like lances, plasma batteries and lascannons, every 40k ship has entire banks of these weaker, more short-ranged weapons that are used only for shooting down torpedoes and interceptors. Remember in the story, when Ezekyle shot down an entire wing of Swiftdeaths? That was it, though it's pretty unusual for a Lord Admiral to command those, as they consider it beneath them.

"Like hell," some of the more knowledgeable Warsie fans say, "but the Imperium _also_ uses torpedoes! You've gotta be lying!"

Ah, you got me there. Torpedoes are _not_ useless. The difference however, is the size and the sheer number the Imperium uses.

Star Wars ships shoot, like, a hundred missiles, and consider that a lot. 40k ships usually fire _thousands_, in big patterns, so much that the enemy can't evade or shoot down them _all_ down. Also, there's the fact that the missiles are fucking _armored_. That's right, you heard me correctly: _armored_. In Star Wars, since it seems on the most part there aren't point defense systems, if a torpedo is fired accurately enough then boom! Instadeath!

Not so in 40k. In 40k, missiles is armored, so it can survive that huge barrage being shot at it—and get this, every missile contains a _nuclear reactor_; yup, atomic bombs are used as a throwaway weapon of destruction in 40k. But if even that isn't enough to convince you, then get your heads around this:

An average missile in 40k is two hundred meters long. A corvette is a hundred and fifty.

That's right. 40k considers fucking atomic nukes the size of small Star Wars capital ships to be chump change in space warfare.

Yup, that's my retort to Star Wars fans. If anyone wants to debate, review me: I'm always up for a good argument. Don't be afraid to flame! I accept all reviews, from "lols you suxx" to long, well written criticisms.

At least, it meant you cared.

…

To 40k fans:

I really wanted to do so much more in this Chapter, such as go into the backgrounds of the ship, how it works, and more, but the narrative simply wouldn't allow it. This is one great feature I really love about 40k: unlike in Wars, where most things are mass-produced, every ship in 40k is a product of years of love and labor. For example, although it isn't mentioned in the story, the Havelock dynasty has been commanding the _Imperator Invictus_ for over ten generations, and mental uploads of all previous Lord Admirals are kept in a secure database, ready to be "resurrected" in times of need, to draw upon their collective experiences. Unlike a lot of other fictions I've read, 40k really allows you a great deal of freedom, because it's so big you can personalize small pieces of its history. I think this really allows the story to have this sense of "humanity", where the story isn't really about the big guns (though, of course, part of the appeal is) but about what humans do, in this grim, dark time.

It's not about, oh, Nova Cannons obliterating the fuck out of everything or Tyranids eating everything, it's how humans react to Nova Cannons obliterating the fuck out of everything, or Tyranids eating everything.

_For in the grim darkness of the far future, there is more than just war. There are real people, too._

…

**NOTE!**

Personally, I dislike changing stuff, as it means the new people reading will not have any idea about the hell happened. So instead, I'll just write an update of new changes down here.

OK, first thing: after reading a review by Blinded in a Bolthole, who commented the original story (about 936 words) was too short, I extended the first chapter a bit. In a nutshell? If you liked anything storywise after the line "Glorious battle recommenced!", you can thank him.

Also, CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT! One reviewer, Battle Bruva Volks, commented that the fic was simply one of things being blown the fuck up and needed actual sympathetic characters for the audience to, well, sympathize with. So, with his sage advice with mind, I tried to give my characters some actual personality and show them reacting to stress, even if their reaction included more things being killed the fuck out of. So, Battle Bruva Volks, I hope one day you return and tell me whether or not I've done a good job—or not.

Thanks to a concerned guest who knows more of 40k lore than I, I was informed that yes, void shields _can_ block solid projectiles, except they have to be over a certain speed, kind of like the Goa'uld personal shields from Stargate, for those 'gate fans out there. If you hurl a rock at a battleship, the shields will do jack shit, but fire a railgun, then the void shields will kick and lolnope it.

Also, apparently, I've disabled anonymous reviews or something, as the helpful guest mentioned above? His review doesn't show up on the review page, and I had to access my email account to read it. If anyone gives me a tip to fix this, I'll give them a kudos and review a story for you.

**NOTE, PART 2!**

Ohhhhkay, after reading through the story _yet_ again, I decided I wanted to bump up the number of words to 10k+. Don't ask why, I just did, and this is probably going to be the last major change to Chapter 1, other than a few small edits. I also changed some of the weirder stuff that didn't make sense, such as how the Forces of Chaos would have a vortex torpedo, and stuff like that. General rule of thumb: I'll usually (but not always) edit every weekend, so don't consider a Chapter truly done until it's been up at _least_ a week. I decided it was more important to actually get the stories up, then slowly correct parts of it, so you guys, my loyal fans, can read it just a little faster. Is it a hassle? Yup, and I'm kind of sorry for that, but that's just how the winds of inspiration flow.

Additionally, I went back to do some more research on 40k, after reading the huge wealth of helpful feedback—and to my horror, discovered I had a small mistake regarding ship-classes. Nothing too major; it's not something that I believe even super hardcore 40kers would notice, but since I thought I was writing a motherfucking _purge_ fic, I better get my facts straight or be called out as an idiot. Apparently, I had gotten the _Retribution_-class battleship mixed up with the _Emperor_-class battleship—the Retribution's the one with the uber-huge prow that rams shit, and its original, most primitive prototype was the one that had the Nova cannon. The Emperor-class is similar, except it has a fuckhuge launching bay and a bazillion sensors that make it an incredible command center. So, I apologize for that mistake, even though changing it makes me kind of sad, as I wanted an _Emperor_-class battleship with the name of _Emperor Unconquered_. Instead, I have to make do with _Retribution_—hmmm, what puns can I use? Good thing is, at least now, the title of the chapter makes sense.

Also, I decided some of the names of the battleships were still too pussified, so I changed Omnissiah's Glory (appropriate only to the servitors of the Adeptus Mechanicus, anyways, even though the Mars-class _is_ an exclusive Mechanici product) into _Ares Titanicus_, reflecting its hallowed roots as a son of Mars, yet preserving its own unique flavor. The doomed Grand Cruiser of the late Lord Castus was renamed from an extremely generic (though no less awesome) name of _Fury of Terra_ to _Ira Aquila_, or Wrath of the Eagle. I feel this gives it more taste.

And, cool note; I just discovered Darth Malleus had written a rewrite of Two Galaxy's Saga, _A Long Way From Home_. Don't know how the story goes yet, but after reading the first chapter, I've decided to use this as the inspiration for my story instead: it is MUCH better written, and plus the attack force includes a Super Star Destroyer, which goes a long way in balancing out the power discrepancy between 'Wars and 40k. Like most of you have said, even I don't want to make it a total stompfest like 'Malleus did. After all, two wrongs don't make a right.

Oh yeah, and I almost forgot! Even though it doesn't look like it, even the Epic Paragon of Manliness needs some praise and reviews sometimes. As Battle-Brother Alessio Cortez of the Crimson Fists would say:

"Your reviews and favorites nourished me far more than any mere food and drink ever could!"


	2. Chap 2 Temporary Rant Updates Later!

New followers and favoriters, please leave a review, even if it's only one word long; this way I can PM you if anything new comes up.

Also, attentions to my beloved audience, I am quite sorry if my harsh language has caused you discomfort. It is simply my style. To be honest, writing in a non-inflammatory manner simply sits ill with me. For me, writing is an act of creation, a transfer of my ideas and thoughts directly onto the screen. To be faux-polite feels to me to be ten times worse than any amount of flaming and trolling shall. It is a denial of who I am.

When ol' Shitripper here came and debated with me, I did not actually feel angry. No, I actually felt elated that my first troll was here, and that this was a guy (or gal) that did not care what others thought about him, whom I could unleash upon the full force of my apocalyptic, soul scorching fury. As I mentioned in my profile, I rather enjoy slaying trolls (and not only for the gold and experience!), as most of them are simply inconsiderate assholes (much like me!) who enjoy tossing vile, base attempts at humor (surely, you all can tell from my story I am trolling Star Wars fans now, albeit in a slightly more classy way than simply going LOL WARS SUCKZ). I fully subscribe to the belief that to live means to be able to take a joke, hence my utterly ridiculous profile name as the Epic Paragon of Manliness and the supreme hypocrisy at the statement to back off and enjoy life when I have dedicated 16,000 words to a rant regarding two completely fictional universes that impact my life in negligible (well, actually rather substantial) ways.

For you guys that actually cared and spent even a fraction of your life at simply sitting down and writing me a review, I say that I truly feel touched. When I first opened this profile and wrote this 'fic, I had thought no one would care and I would simply spit my empty vitriol at a cold and uncaring cyberspace, railing impotently at the binaric void.

To my eternal surprise, in less than a month, I have already garnered over thirty reviews (more than one a day!) and have kind persons drop in and attempt to even help me. Much thanks to those people who contributed lore on both sides, and helped me expand my knowledge on both universes. Much thanks to people, such as Blinded in the Bolthole and Battle Brother Volks, who consoled me to improve my plot and writing and I feel whose criticism will really help me develop as a writer. Much thanks even to those anonymous guests, who simply dropped in to tell me to tone down my admittedly incredible inflammatory diatribes against "that pansy, dickless universe," in case I get banned.

I will follow your advice, and indeed tone down some of my more…provocative statements. I respect you guys, and since some of you are uncomfortable with my hate fueled vitriol against 'Wars (though really, like I said, I actually enjoy the setting, just not to the point I like Warhammer), I'll tone the RAEG! down. Unfortunately, simply because writing completely politely, and being a paragon of civility completely ruins the fun of writing for me, I will still act in some rather PROVOCATIVE MANNERS, simply cuz it's fun.

Call me a troll. I totally am.

**SPECIAL NOTE!**

Battle Bruva Volks, believe me, I actually am listening to you when you post. I am sorry if I came of rather arrogantly in the chapter, and believe me, although it was a deliberate attempt to feed the troll, you are right; reading it over now, it has a rather sharp edge.

Warhammer (both universes) is still manlier than Star Wars though. That's the truth!

Also, although it seems like it has no plot, that's only because it's just 7,000 words in. There is still a huge lot of space to be covered, and though every chapter will be badass, not every one, I promise, will be about people ripping other people in half with chainswords. And remember, I am doing a fanfiction of a fanfiction, and I gotta follow at the very least some of the stuff Darth Malleus has.

Anonymous Guest and A Sandvich, my replies to you are below!

…

They had awoken to a nightmare.

…

A Sandvich, while some of the information here can be taken as hyperbole in-lore, every single one of those claims I have made can be backed up. The lightspeed+ Necron Lord hails from the book _Fall of Damnos_ in which the Ultramarine Second Company battles against the Necrons. In it, a Necron Lord uses the chronometron to move either five or fifteen stories (I forgot which) in a single _nanosecond_. Granted, that could be exaggeration, similar to how I replied to Shitripper's comment that Beldam Spirits are omnipotent, but still, moving a couple of stories in less than a second is an incredible feat of speed. Taken at face value (as in, it really did take just a nanosecond), it would mean that the Necron Lord is lolling at physics and breaking the lightspeed barrier, as light moves at roughly 0.2 meters per nanosecond (courtesy of google), and five stories is definitely more than 0.2 meters. Still, even if it's hyperbole, that's still damn fast, especially as in the story the Necron Lord was beating the shit out of hypersonic bullet-timing Space Marines in reaction time and speed.

Meanwhile, in the Horus Heresy novel Mechanicum, there is a throwaway quote that the Void Dragon "had no name, for what use would a being that had brought entire civilizations into existence and then snuffed them out on a whim have of name? It had been abroad in the galaxy for millions of years before humanity had been a breath in the creator's mouth, had drunk the hearts of stars and been worshipped as a god in a thousand galaxies."

That's the word for word quote, directly from Mechanicum. Luckily, some fellow fan had copied it directly to the 'net, whereupon I simply copied and pasted. Personally, I believe this quote has a much higher chance of being hyperbole than the Lightspeed+ Necron Lord, but eh, back in the War in Heaven, the C'tan and their Necron servants where doing some pretty crazy shit.

Regarding the fucksploding planets thing by the way, you got me. Nowhere in the text does it outright state that the C'tan could blow up planets. However, given that they literally devour entire stars for breakfast and that their help was instrumental in the turning the tide against the Old Ones (and that the Necrons, with their technology alone, were already capable of blowing up planets Death Star style) I assumed they would, at the very least, be able to destroy planets outright.

I totally agree with, and admire your sentiment, however.

_Kill the Wanker_. **Burn the Sues**. _**Purge the Unclean**_!

…

Guest, I think I can kind of tell who you are (you're the guy who wanted me to do the Okami crossover, right?), but to further make sure I don't get lost, I guess you could simply write in a moniker as a first sentence every time you review like, for example, for Shitripper:

Shitripper

BLAHBLAHBLAH

And that would go a long way in helping me identify who you are.

I'm sorry if you were one of the people who were offended by me trash-talking. I promise I will take a bit of an edge off of it, but it will in no way completely disappear. I am sorry if that will put you off reading this fiction, but sadly, due to the fact I was probably neglected/manhandled/tortured at birth, I somehow find great satisfaction at trash-talking, and in my view, there is simply no point to me writing if it isn't _fun_.

Still, I appreciate your comments. Hope you'll stick with me in this!

…

+_The Posts Below Are For Reference. Those Who Are Weak Of Heart, Be Blessed In Ignorance, And Look Away_!+

Jesus, I wasn't even planning to write an update today, but seeing my first flamer (or shit-ripper, as you call yourself) has gotten me pumped. For those of you here for the story, I'm sorry, but I promise, it will be up in the next few days. Life has been busy, and I want to make sure what I write is something of actual high quality, and not shit blended into words.

Now Guest, I'd advise you to get a more unique nickname, otherwise you're making it super hard on me to tell who the fuck you are, as I don't want mix you up with every other anonymous dude out there. Since you've already called yourself a 'ripper, just go ahead and roll with it. Shitripper is actually a pretty badass nickname.

I'll ignore the obscene amount of grammar errors you have, as this was a rant probably made in the spur of deep emotion and unlike me, you don't actually have any need to maintain a standard for an audience. No, despite this coming off aggressively, this is not an attack. What is good enough is I can actually read it. Point to you.

Now, though, I will really lay on the sarcasm.

Look at me roll my internet eyes. Seriously, I wonder what was it that gave it away that I prefer 40k over 'Wars? Was it the incredibly provocative title? Was it my tone throughout the entire essay? Did it take you a great feat of literary genius to figure it out?

_Is there actually a need to point out the obvious?_

And second: not to say Star Wars is the gayest shit in the world or anything (as unbelievable as it is, I used to be a heavy 'Wars fan), but even the most basic layman to both universes will be able to tell simply from the most basic artworks the sheer difference of manliness between them.

When one types "Star Wars" into google images, the first thing that pops up is a bunch of awkward adolescent hillbillies doing their best to strike a heroic pose but failing miserably as they look like a fucking gay boy band poster (admittedly, there is a slightly badass looking cyborg warrior in the back, but his backstory was fucking raped beyond recognition in the prequels so it doesn't count).

In contrast, when I typed in "Warhammer 40,000", the first thing I got was a motherfucking nine-foot tall superhuman warrior wielding a chainsaw axe that shot lightning bolts. Your argument is thus, invalid.

That isn't to say there isn't cool stuff in 'Wars. I loved Darth Bane, and the Old Republic was a hundred times more badass than the current shit coming out—but seriously? To say its level of badassitude is higher than 40k? Are you on fucking crack?

On one side, the signature character is a fucking emo manchild with penis envy so great that he basically backstabbed everything cool in the entire franchise in a supreme move of ultimate dickery because he was afraid that he had to give up on boning Natalie Portman. Though, in his defense, _Natalie Portman_.

On the other side, the signature character is a fifty-thousand year old, ten foot tall, super badass genius God-King who brought mankind from the brink of collapse to becoming one of the greatest Empires that the galaxy has even seen, yet due to his supreme hubris, was struck down by literal deities who turned his son against him, condemning him to an eternity of torment with the knowledge that all this could've been averted, had he trusted his own son a little more.

You kind of seeing what I'm getting at?

Star Wars _does_ have cool shit. I thought the background surrounding the Rakatan Infinite Empire was awesome, and Darth Bane, for years, was one of my top five favorite villains. Darth Vader, before the prequels came out, was a forbidding figure of doom, and I'd always dreamed of being a badass Mandolorian warrior, scything done those pussy jedi, after playing the Republic Commando games.

The thing is, the _most_ badass people in 'Wars have a manliness factor equal to the _least _manliest people in all of Warhammer.

Bane was a Sith lord that penned the Rule of Two, and orchestrated the downfall of the entire Brotherhood of Darkness and fucked over the entire Army of Light. Yet, can he compare to Dolan Chirosius, an Imperial Saint known as the Great Confessor, who was such an inspirational speaker that in a single speech broadcasted across a hundred worlds, he ignited such passion in every man, woman and child of the lower classes that as one they rebelled against their masters? Who, when caught and under torture, laughed at his captors and spat in their faces, and promised that divine retribution was coming? Who, as weeping pilgrims walked up to him to wipe his brow, refused and said in a line of supreme badassery:

"I do not need your blood; I can take your blood. What I need is your souls; only you can give me your souls!"

Vader? Before his story was ruined, he was a cool, aloof, grim warrior who we all wanted to know about—that's why when the prequels started coming out, I was so excited to learn who the fuck was this mysterious warrior of the past.

Now that it's revealed, I take it all back.

Can dickless Anakin compare with Colonel Schaeffer, leader of the Last Chancers, a legion of condemned soldiers? Who, despite being assigned suicidal duties, has the fucking guts to stand beside those same condemned soldiers and war with them? Who has served the Emperor for over three hundred years, and has been brought back from the brink of death by cybernetic enhancements and organ transfers so many times that of his entire body, only his brain is the original? Who once, when ordered, charged a tank with nothing but a grenade, and fucking took it down, after it had crushed his spine into paste and they finally managed to extricate him from the treads?

These men make motherfucking Mad Jack Churchill look like a pussy, and Mad Jack was a real life British warrior who once charged a Nazi machine gun outpost wielding a claymore (as in, the sword), and _took it._

These people aren't even on the high scale of Badass for 40k, and some of them aren't even important characters, who have had barely any impact on history, unlike men such as the Paladin Brother-Captain Stern, or the Reaper of Souls Maugan Ra, or World Eater Chaos Primarch Angron, or Necron Overlord Trazyn the Infinite or even the Supreme God-Emperor of All Mankind, yet each of them are already ten times more manly than the most badass Star Wars heroes. The sheer levels of awesome are on totally different scales.

There's a reason why after I began reading Warhammer, I never looked back.

OK, let's move on.

...Wut?

**Begin Quote!**

i.g a sword class frigate soundlessly pwns star destroyers [witch is bull]

I COULD just say beldam spirits* and Celestials* and go lolololol at chaos empra gork mork c tan ect but that's not fun  
that said I will counter every one of you chapters to the best of my quote and wiki finding ability to fight your very...VERY biased views

starts on w40k side...[rolls eyes] anyway you admit you don't know all that much about star wars but then dismiss it on the basis that you {think you know enough} because being able to know all of the major players in sw are and how many light saber colors thare are is deafinetly NOT enough to make decisions about fire power and what not

**End Quote!**

Wait, what? You accuse me of being supremely biased, make assumptions I know virtually nothing about Star Wars and complain about how I make baseless claims?

The hypocrisy of this statement matches the time when Hitler promised Chamberlain that he wouldn't start another World War. In case you didn't know, he did.

One: everyone is biased. Yes, I am biased for 40k, just as you are to Star Wars. * gasp * Amazing, right!?

Two: The reason I said I didn't know everything about Star Wars is because I don't. In fact, I doubt anyone does, and I really do thank you for pointing out the Bedlam Spirits; I've always been aware of the Celestials, but I've never heard of the Bedlam Spirits. The reason I point out I don't know, is so that when I genuinely get something wrong, someone can point it out to me. I don't go around claiming I believe 40k will beat Star Wars because 40k is awesome, but because I genuinely believe 40k will beat Star Wars. If you want to convince me, do so by showing me evidence. You should have told me some feats, rather than simply namedropping shit that I may or may not even feel like looking up.

Because by this point, I am beginning to believe that I know more about Star Wars than you do about 40k. You obviously, again, like Daemonhunter2, have not read the latest Necron codex, nor have you read anything about the War in Heaven era Eldar, or even Humanity during the Dark Age of Technology. In versus debates, we usually go by things such as feats, because descriptions usually are filled with hyperbole.

So, first—Bedlam Spirits are, in essence, after one gets past the hyperbole, hyperdimensional entities that can skip between dimensions, and manipulate space and time. That's…it. Unless you are seriously taking the omnipotent description at face value, these aliens are about as powerful as high-level daemons, which all have much more impressive feats, such as accelerating time, changing the speed of light, and all kinds of other esoteric shit. The Bedlam Spirits are literally what Grey Knights slaughter for breakfast day in, day out.

TROLOL! You say. DEYZ OMNIPOTENT!

I hate to break it to you, but every single writer, in order to make their creations sound awesome, dress them up in all kinds of juicy descriptors. Tzeentch, for one, is explicitly described in a novel as an omnipotent that created the entire omniverse and who, out of sheer boredom, depowered himself and split his personality into four segments to troll the shit out of his creation. Yet, I call that wank of the highest caliber and refuse to use that in debate matches. Why? It's a piece of bullshit that literally flies in the face of every other piece of 40k canon. Just like I saw nothing in Tzeentch that screams OMNIPOTENT AHOY! I don't see anything in the Bedlam Spirits that would even significantly threaten 40k.

The Celestials on the other hand, are a supremely powerful race that I say could challenge every single _current_ race in 40k except for one.

Mother. Fucking. Newcrons.

Seriously, you really, really must not have read the latest Necron codex if you truly believe 'Wars can beat 40k. As far as I know, the greatest feat for the Celestials was building Centerpoint and Sinkhole Station. They blew up suns, they shifted solar systems, and did all sorts of crazy shit back in the _old _days.

Unfortunately for them, that's exactly what the Necrons are doing _now_—and they're not even at the _height_ of their power! That would've been during the _War in Heaven_, or sixty-five million years ago!

The Necrons are literally trolling every other race in 40k. I am not joking, they are so overpowered that they don't even deserve to appear in this story, at least in their current incarnation. They are literally my most hated faction in 40k, and that is saying something (I'm looking at you, Tau).

They have a device that allows them to blow up every single star in the galaxy, simultaneously. WUT?

They have perfect time travel. WUT?

A single anti-tank tank blew up an entire planet. WUT? That would mean their ground vehicle=Death Star!

Seriously, if you don't believe me, look them up; the first is called the Celetial Orrery, the second is Orikan the Diviner, and the third should be under the entry Doomsday Ark.

I'll be here waiting. When you have finished even a modicum of basic research, I'll be ready to listen to your opinion.

…

Hello, Daemonhunter2; I'm incredibly grateful that you spent so much time on that monster post for my review. To show my appreciation, I will reply in an equally massive post; after all, a smart mind cannot exist in a vacuum, eh?

First off, I've never, ever played any 40k game, unless you count Dawn of War. While I do know of the tabletop game, and I have some Codices, the appeal of 40k (for me at least) has always been in the rich lore, the mature themes and excellent artwork; in other words, the "fluff".

Apparently though, from what I've heard from my even more fanatical friends, is that yes, like you've said, everything on the tabletop game is balanced, at least nominally, otherwise no one would be able to play any game. Due to popular demand, however, Games Workshop once released a version of Space Marines they called "Movie Marines" that accurately represented their power in-lore. Apparently, they were so awesome that a single squad member cost about the same as a fully upgraded Hive Tyrant, and a squad of ten _demolished an entire 1500-point army of Imperial Guard_. So, yeah. I agree with you: the tabletop crunch isn't a good place to start.

Regarding the Void Shield thing though, I didn't get that from the crunch: I got it straight off the Warhammer Wiki and some of the 40k books I've read over the years. Look up Emperor-class battleship: it outright states that it has four void shields.

You're right in other ways though: 40k is such a big universe, and everything is vague on purpose so people can make what they want. The thing is, there simply isn't that much information about conventional 40k space battles, so I had to extrapolate. In the Space Wolf novels, they made it sound like the battleships had been slugging it out over the course of days. In the Dawn of War novels, a single lance strike can blow up mountains larger than Everest. I added the two together and came up with the conclusion that the Void Shields are the main line of defense—no fucking way is _any_ armor good enough to sustain blasts when a _single_ (I repeat, _single_) lance strike fucksplodes mountains. No way.

So, is it correct? I dunno. GW is so vague we don't even know if Squats still exist. Is it plausible, though? Hell yeah!

I don't see how a Retribution taking down the void shields in a single broadside in any way negates my view. Hell, in my story, I rule that a single broadside _can_ take down all the void shields. The thing is, for Broadsides to be effective, they've got to be fired from what Imperial Naval Tacticians call "spitting distances"—a couple thousand kilometers, whereas all their other weaponry can reach hundreds of kilometers. It's less of whether you've got the power, than whether you want to die together with the enemy, because when you're that close, they can do the same thing too.

Yup, I agreed with you on the beauty of 40k lore in Chapter 1—you can make up almost anything, providing you aren't _too_ egregious.

One gripe about your comments about 40k though: _not every instance of modification is automatically tech-heresy_. Seriously, that really needs to stop. People really need to understand the fucking crux of the matter, instead of just seeing the outside appearances. Why does the Mechanicus revile innovation? They believe only the knowledge of man is divine (with good reason—I'll talk about that later), and that all knowledge has already been found, just waiting to be discovered, in the form of the STCs (…and even though that sounds ridiculous at first, when you realize how powerful humanity was during the Dark Age of Technology—I'm serious, if DAoT humanity alone fought against the entire Star Wars universe at the height of its power, DAoT Man would still win. They've got _pistols_—I repeat, _pistols_—that blow up stars, ships that fire_ 100 kilometer wide black holes __**backwards in time**_, gravitic beam weapons [kinda like mini-Centerpoint Stations, for you Star Wars fans out there] and tons more. Hell, they even have FTL that _doesn't_ rely on hyperspace _or_ the warp, negating SW's greatest advantage, and have trillions of ultra-robot slaves called the Iron Men, each more powerful than motherfucking _Space Marines_).

Also, when you realize just _what the fuck_ is waiting for mankind out there, you realize the Mechanicus's conservatism is justified.

For example, have you heard of the Halo Devices?

These are pieces of alien jewelry. Seriously, it seems all they do is glitter. They were found on this abandoned planet, and sold by unscrupulous merchants, and were all the fucking rage. Then, the nobles discovered that these devices kept them eternally young. Whopee!

Then, they started having strange appetites. Oh, it was alright at first: they just ate their meat a little rawer. Then, it started getting _really_ out of hand.

They started attacking their servants, and eating them _alive_. Then, they started building nests, out of human bones and shit.

The Inquisition was all like—WTF! And immediately instigated a purge. What they found was _horrifying_.

Those people were human no longer. They became these bizarre insect hybrids, and were _fucking indestructible_. I mean, seriously: one tanked a _plasma round to the face_. In case you didn't know, a plasma round in 40k is not like those pussy Halo Covenant bolts—in 40k, they fire bursts of stellar plasma as hot as the _core of the sun_. That's right, they're fucking insects who frolic around at temperatures of millions of degrees Celsius.

Of course, in the end, using eldritch psy-witchery, which blatantly defies the laws of physics, they killed all the corrupted nobles, blah blah blah, then confiscated Halo Devices. To this day, _nobody_ knows who made it. Seriously, none of the major races made this shit. _It is a fact in 40k that even using alien jewelry will get you killed._

Or I could mention the Slaugth life draining devices, which they sell to humans to troll them. Or Eldar Wraithbone, which infects anyone not Eldar with a psychic disease which dissolves their very _molecules_. Or Necrodermis. Or any thousand other alien devices, or even _Chaos_.

Did you know, for example, daemons can infect unblessed devices?

There is a justified reason that the Mechanicus is fucking paranoid.

So yeah. Alien tech? Big no-no. Unlicensed upgrades? Bad, not because it's going to eat you, per se, but because it diminishes the Mechanicus's political might, and in the grim derpness of 40k, the politicking is even worse. But a _Lord-Admiral_ making modifications to his Retribution-class Battleship with sanctioned Imperial Human technologies, with an entire complement of tech-priests overseeing the change? That's fine.

If you still don't believe me, then I point out the Armageddon-class Battlecruisers, which are retrofitted, redesigned Lunar-class Cruisers. Seriously, look them up. Or the fact that the Retribution-class Battleship is actually a rip-off version of an Ark Mechanicus, with the original design having a nova cannon, which is no longer used now.

Innovation doesn't happen? Bullshit.

Sorry if it sounds offensive; that's just how I roll. I'm actually not mad or anything.

The thing is, it's this same technological regression that is actually saving the Imperium. If the Empire was in the place of the Imperium, I am willing to bet that it would either collapse down to the Imperium's level, or disintegrate completely. A galaxy wide 'net? There is a kind of digital daemon that exists in 40k. Once it hacked into the 'net, it could corrupt almost every single user of the 'net using subliminal messaging, turning them to the worship of Chaos. Or the fucking Genestealers—because of Star Wars tolerance (at least, compared to 40k), I could see the Universal Bro—whoops! genestealer cults gaining a huge foothold in millions of worlds, without any higher ups being any wiser. The Orks, once they've looted the fucking hyperdrive, would go on Waaaghs! of insane size. Seriously, before, it was only their lack of star maps and reliable FTL that was stopping them. The second da Orks loot a ship that has a functional hyperdrive and coordinates, they would literally be almost impossible to eradicate due to their unique reproduction system. That's not even mentioning the day-to-day dangers of 40k existence: space hulk appearances, warpstorms, anomalies; all these would drive the Empire to the ground.

For example, have you ever heard of the Hadex Anomaly? It's this gigantic rift in space and time, and thousands of ghost ships drift eternally around it, driving men who see them insane. Under its light, entire worlds are corrupted and time warps. The forces of Chaos, for example, have used this last side effect extremely efficiently. The Imperium launched a massive crusade into the area that contained the anomaly. Remember, this is an Imperium of a million+ worlds. They were stalemated by a small band of a few dozen planets. WTF?

It was because for every week that passed by for the Imperium, over a decade has passed for the Stigmartus (Chaos) troops. In that decade, they've set up fucking breeding programs, analyzed Imperial tactics over and over again, and mined millions of tons of ores. Commanders are facing a highly-motivated enemy trained from birth to hate them. They are fighting commanders that from birth literally have made it their life's work to study one particular Imperial Commander, to be his mortal nemesis. Can you imagine that? Despite having only a few dozen worlds, they are stalemating the motherfucking _Imperium._

Now, I'm not saying they're winning, not in the long run, but I'm just saying this is the kind of shit the Empire will be facing all the time, if they lived in the 40k universe.

But now, instead of what-ifs, lets get to down to the versus.

Now, to get down to the meat of the matter; strategic and tactical advantages.

You know, probably to the rage of tons of 40k fans, I actually agree with your assessment that Star Wars would defeat the Imperium—but no, it would not be as easy of a match as you suggest.

For one, the Imperium does not just have a million worlds. A quote in Dark Heresy has them either at hundreds, or tens of millions.

For two, the Imperium has ridiculous numbers. Coruscant, the single most populated planet in Star Wars, has a population of…one trillion. Seriously, any hive world worth its salt has that much men—for example, Terra alone has over a hundred trillion.

Also, the logistics aren't as lopsided as you make it out; while I believe that the Empire would be able to outproduce the Imperium, you are seriously overlooking some 40k shit.

Mars, as in one planet, produced over a thousand ships (and not those tiny SW ships either, but big, honking 40k ships) for the Great Crusade.

Read that again—Mars produced _every single ship for the original wave of the Great Crusade_.

Sure, you could argue, this is _fucking Mars_, second most important planet in the Imperium, but still; the Imperium is nowhere as weak as you portray it. This isn't even counting the Imperium's skill with psykers, in that the most skilled Navigators can cause ships to arrive _before_ they've left (no, I am not accepting that "oh! No Warp in Wars, lololol bullshit. If you actually wanted to debate, rather than write a fanfiction, on which side would win one will assume the powers of all sides works, otherwise, I could just argue I could beat Voldemort because lol, in realz life there no magic trololol and I punch the slit-nosed fucker in the face), or even obtain targeting solutions for ships before they even appear, or even explode planets with their minds, or the esoteric tech the Imperium has (such as star-bursting pistols, drone armies, ships that fire black holes backwards in time). Trust me, the battle is far from easy to decide. The battle with the Imperium will probably leave the entire SW galaxy at the brink of collapse, as the Imperium, when realizing it's dead, pulls out all stops and goes out in a blaze of glory.

That's the Imperium VS Star Wars. Unfortunately, the debate was about the entirety of 40k VS Star Wars.

You seriously must not have read the latest Necron codex if you believe that the Star Wars has any method of countering what can be called "God-moding".

Seriously, I feel confident enough to claim that I believe a single decent-sized Necron Dynasty could take on the entirety of Star Wars and win.

Not the entire race, a single _faction_ of the race.

Why, you ask?

The Necrons are broken. Seriously, if the Necrons wanted to conquer the entirety of 40k, they could. If this debate had occurred before the newest edition, I would have conceded. But now? No fucking way.

To give an example of Necron tech, we have the Celestial Orrery, a three-dimensional holographic star map of the entire Milky Way galaxy. The catch? Whatever happens to the map, happens to the star.

That's right. The Necrons could wipe the entire Imperium off the map literally by letting their children have a three-hour playthrough in the Celestial Orrery.

Of course, I'm not saying the Necrons would have a Celestial Orrery version of Star Wars, but this was to give an example of the fucking scale the Newcrons work on.

Orikan the Diviner? A Necron that has perfect time travel. As far as I know, only Jacen Solo has mastered time-travel in Star Wars, and he could only do it to himself, and couldn't change history. The Necrons _can_, and they move entire _warfleets_ through time.

Just this alone is a perfect win for the Necrons. But wait! There's more!

What, you said? Star Wars is faster? Nope. The newest Necron book that came out shows they still use inertialess drives, meaning they can cross the entire galaxy in one second, something not even the fastest ship in Star Wars can do.

Firepower? Please, in 40k, a single Necron ship could take on ten any other 40k ships and still come out on top. In Wars, this literally means they'll be fucking mowing down fleets.

Numbers? What about World Devastators? From SW debates, people have always said that SW can simply amp up droids and steamroll the opposition in cheap, Baktoid shit. Not this time.

The Necrons are the single most powerful machine race in 40k. They can even resist motherfucking scrapcode, which is a sentient daemon entirely made of machine code and that attacks and shuts down machines. For example, in the Horus Heresy, the defenses of Ultramar where shut down by Scrapcode, which left the entire Ultramarine fleet vulnerable to Lorgar's attack. The Necrons could simply hack the droids and order them to stand down, or even turn them against their masters.

Additionally, the Necrons mine stars. Sounds familiar? A single Star Forge was making waves in Wars. The Necrons consider it a piece of cheap shit.

Then again, with the Necrons, ground warfare literally would be useless. For example; a Necron Lord can move faster than light. Read that again.

A Necron Lord can move faster than light.

You know, light can cross the fucking United States seventy-two times in one second, right? You know what this means?

A single Lord, if dropped on the battlefields of Geonosis, could solo every single combatant in that battle, providing he has the power to fuel the chronometron device.

Wait! I can hear some people calling bullshit. How the fuck do people beat Necrons in 40k then?

They…don't. Seriously, even Space Marines lose to Necrons now. A single Necron force halted an entire Black Templar crusade. Trazyn the Infinite made an alliance with the Eldar and the Imperium, double crossed both, defeated Cato Sicarius, the Ultramarine Second Company Captain, in single combat, than teleported away, kidnapped the Eldar Farseer, tied her up, and delivered her to Cato.

WUT?

They are literally trolling everyone in 40k.

I mean seriously, their ground troops use the sixth dimension as ghillie suits; they snipe people from alternate dimensions, for lolz. They captured motherfucking gods, and use them as pokemon. Seriously.

They could literally nullify every single powerful force user in Star Wars by using their Tesseract Labyrinths, which they used to capture a C'tan God, star vampires that rape physics and eat stars for breakfast. Literally.

The Nightbringer, physically strongest of all the C'tan, raped life so badly that all cultures perceive the Grim Reaper (his form) as the symbol of death. The Void Dragon, _the most overall powerful C'tan,_ at his peak, was worshipped in _one thousand galaxies_ as a god and went around fucksploding planets for the lulz. Not even Luke fucking "I blow up Star Destroyers for Breakfast" Skywalker is that powerful. And the Necrons captured them in these little balls, split them apart, and now summon them out to fight—like pokemon!

Any Necron dynasty could capture Skywalker and use him as a pokemon.

Necrons are overpowered. So, this is why I'm not including them in this debate (nor by story in fact, at least, not in their current incarnation), as they've been wanked to the point it's no longer just stupid, but pants-on-headedly retarded. The other races in 40k, however, are not much better.

There is a documented case where an Ork Warboss grew so big he engaged Titans in hand to hand combat, titans being the size of skyscrapers.

The largest Eldar Craftworld is the size of a red supergiant (as in, you know, the ultrahuge star), and has hangers that contain entire moons.

Their Dark kin use black holes as infantry level weapons, and use entire stars as Christmas ornaments.

The Tyranids have consumed twelve galaxies before the current 40k one. They can literally lose quadrillions of soldiers, and not even notice.

The Daemons in the Warp can change the laws of physics. A daemon prince once ordered light speed to be slower than light, so he could watch himself killing things—now, the previous ones were pretty ridiculous but this…

WUT?

Only the Tau are still fucking noobs.

Yeah. I think you get the idea, Daemonhunter2.

Imperium VS Wars? Sure, Wars victory.

40k VS Wars? Please, Wars, you just ain't ready to join the big boys.

…


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